


The Gentleman's Guide To Misdirection

by crocodilepatronus



Category: Downton Abbey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodilepatronus/pseuds/crocodilepatronus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my theories regarding the s4 trailer and hopes for how things will play out. <br/>A mix of theories I've read from other people and also tumblr user doriannegray 's lovely idea of Thomas and Jimmy "shirtless, smoking, and scheming" which I thought was a good prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: whenever I have a hard time thinking of a title for a Thommy fic, I preface it with "The Gentleman's Guide to..."

“I’m going to bloody murder Alfred.” Jimmy snapped as he swiped the back of his right hand across his nose again, only further smearing blood across his face.

Jimmy hated the taste of blood. It made his stomach turn.

He didn’t care if he looked a wreck at this point. He was already red in the face, his hair was limp and falling into his eyes, he was naked from the waist up, and his left hand was bleeding onto the floor.

Jimmy was not a tactician. He was a gambler. He relied on instincts, intuition, and it served him well 90% of the time. He had a gift of thinking on his feet… but he didn’t do much thinking **_ahead_**. And when he tried, it often didn’t work out exactly as he’d planned.

But it was so hard not to be angry at Alfred when he spent all his time swooning over Ivy like she’d hung the moon. Meanwhile Jimmy couldn’t even say out loud who it was **_he_** liked…. All the same, that was annoying but not annoying enough for Jimmy to do anything about it. Professional rivalry was a different thing altogether though.

If Alfred could get Carson wrapped around his little finger, then Jimmy could do the same with Ivy. Even if he so much as said a kind word to the girl, Alfred would be sent into an emotional confusion that made him drop serving spoons on the floor and nearly trip down the stairs. That’s what happens when you have a brain the size of a lima bean.  His plan had been to kiss Ivy and for Alfred to be thrown into a foul mood. He hadn’t expected to have 7 feet of ginger moron suddenly lunging at him and throwing him to the floor so hard he’d smashed his hand against the corner of the wall. Then it had been a wild swinging of overly long limbs at his face before Thomas had pulled him off.

Thomas had looked ready to pummel Alfred until he’d blurted out loud enough for the entire household to hear that Jimmy had been kissing Ivy. A reverberating silence ensued in which Thomas had let go of Alfred’s lapels and his face had taken on a stony, neutral, expression. Then Ivy had burst into tears and run from the room. Alfred had followed at her heels.

Jimmy had avoided looking at Thomas because he was suddenly embarassed. It had seemed like such a clever idea but somehow after executing it and more importantly having the repercussion witnessed by Thomas, it felt incredibly stupid and shameful. He’d sworn under his breath, stood up, and stalked upstairs, throwing his door open and ripping off his vest and shirts which were all now bloodstained and throwing them onto the floor. He realized that the under butler had followed him upstairs and was standing behind him in the doorway but he didn’t care for some reason. He was too angry to care about anything like the ‘scandal’ of being seen without a shirt by another man. The first order of business for Jimmy was to fetch the bottle of whiskey he had in his drawer and take a large gulp from the bottle.

He wasn’t sure what he expected Thomas to do. Scold him? Not likely. A small part of Jimmy wanted him to be more upset than he seemed to be though. With an unreadable expression he’d offered to look at his hand.

“Is anything broken? It hurts like the dickens…” Jimmy muttered irritably, taking a drag off the cigarette Thomas had been kind enough to provide him with.

“Nothing’s broken. But the cut’s not shallow. And it’s thick- you’ll have to keep it wrapped up for a while until it heals.” Thomas sighed, gently dabbing at the blood with a wet wash cloth.

Jimmy could usually beat Thomas at poker now. They’d been friends long enough that he knew his tells. The hints of emotion his face betrayed even when he tried so hard to come off as apathetic about everything. His jaw was set, his lips held together a little too tightly as if he was trying hard to not say something. He was upset with Jimmy.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Was it appropriate to say ‘I just kissed Ivy to make Alfred angry’? That sounded horribly immature and foolish and he didn’t want to admit to being that way even if now he could see that it had been.  But for some reason it felt terribly important to let Thomas know that he also didn’t like Ivy. He wasn’t sure why he felt that this was urgent to get across but it was.

Thomas’s fingertips were soft and callous-less as he wrapped a bandage round Jimmy’s palm, not looking up from his work for even a moment.

“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches. But you’ll need to change the dressing on it frequently.”

“We’re lucky to have a medic handy.” Jimmy said, laughing nervously.

Thomas didn’t even crack a smile. Jimmy swallowed hard and licked his lips, looking distractedly around the room. Now that the anger was dimming, he suddenly did feel rather self conscious about not wearing any type of shirt.

“I-it’s funny because y’know, I don’t even fancy Ivy. Not in the least.” Jimmy laughed again weakly.

“I know you don’t. And it’s not particularly funny.” Thomas said immediately in a flat voice, still refusing to look up.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” Jimmy blurted out instantly without thinking.

At this Thomas did snap his head up, blue eyes going wide. Jimmy himself was shocked with his own spite and quickly stuttered out an apology.

“Sorry. I… I didn’t mean to…” he sighed, passing his left hand across his face, “I’m in a rotten mood. Ignore anything I say….”

“I’m not **_jealous_** ,” Thomas muttered, his brows knitting together, “I think you’re a _bloody idiot_. Everyone knows you couldn’t give a toss about Ivy. You wouldn’t have anything to do with her ‘cept that Alfred likes her. But making him angry isn’t doing you any good- clearly.”

“Well I don’t know what to do. Carson favors him. I think he wants to make him first footman. I just want to hold **_something_** over him.” Jimmy seethed.

“Well you’re going about it all wrong.” Thomas said, looking at him skeptically, “For starters… if you’re going to use Ivy to get at Alfred, you can’t make it look like **you’re** the one moving in on **her**. Just give her opportunities that make it clear that she would choose you over Alfred. If you end up letting her really think you’re interested in her, you’re just going to dig a hole for yourself. I mean, I don’t think you really want Ivy to be clinging to you all the time, do you?”

Thomas and Jimmy both winced simultaneously at the thought which brought a smile to Jimmy’s face.

“And if you leave her heartbroken, you’re just going to look like the villain to everyone,” Thomas continued, “Just be friendly enough to her that she ignores Alfred. Or better yet- find some way to pit her against Alfred.”

Thomas shook his head, sighing.

“It’s probably too late for that now, though. You’re just going to have to look a fool. Can’t say you don’t deserve it.”

“I know I do.” Jimmy said dejectedly. “Don’t know what I was thinking….”

“I imagine you weren’t thinking at all, actually- and that’s the problem.” Thomas said, flashing the first smile he’d shown in the conversation.

Jimmy laughed. His eyes locked with Thomas’s. And his mouth went dry. He looked down and realized his hand was still lying in the other man’s even though he’d long finished bandaging it.

The muscles in his chest constricted tightly, sending a shooting pain flowing over his torso that came unbidden. He drew his hand back quickly and saw Thomas go pale.

“S-sorry. I’ll uh- leave you to get dressed…” Thomas stood up so suddenly that the chair clattered back. He cleared his throat and turned to leave, stopping in the doorway without turning around.  

“Are you fine to serve at dinner tonight?”

Jimmy forced a smile, even if Thomas wasn’t turning to see it. “Course I am, you silly beggar. It’s just a scratch.”

“Good.” Thomas said stiffly, walking out without a second glance and closing the door behind him.

Jimmy sank onto his bed, covering his face with his hands.

Thomas didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day and avoided eye contact with him at dinner.

When the family went to bed, Jimmy followed Thomas downstairs. The under butler was walking at a brisk pace ahead of him and when he reached out to tap him on the shoulder his fingers just brushed against the fabric of his jacket before he walked ahead of him.

“Thomas, can I-“ he started but he didn’t hear him and before he could chase after him, hands gripped his lapels and pulled him down into a hallway. Alfred’s face loomed over him, eyes looking red rimmed.

“Jimmy, you better not break Ivy’s heart, you understand? I’ll never forgive you.” he warned threateningly.

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“Oh sod off, you big goon. Forget about her heart- you nearly broke **_me_** today. You should be the one begging my forgiveness.” he snapped, pushing his hands off him. He walked all around the downstairs and even searched in the courtyard but there was no sign of Thomas.

He gave up and retreated back inside, sneaking into the nearly deserted kitchen to knick a bottle of rum Mrs.Patmore used for cooking. Jimmy sat outside in the deserted courtyard, gulping down the drink, feeling sorry for himself, and wishing he could have a smoke as well. The more he drank the more he wished he could have Thomas, not just his cigarettes.

_Stupid Alfred. He doesn’t understand a damn thing. Mr.Barrow understands. He’s awfully clever. I suppose I always knew that. But then again he’s awfully stupid too… He’s a funny one…._

Jimmy thought vaguely, squinting at the bright half moon.

_This is a terrible business. Suppose Alfred really won’t forgive me when I tell Ivy I couldn’t care less about her. Shouldnta kissed her… No one’s saying they’ll turn me in to the police, though. Funny, that._

He thought what he’d done was a lot worse than what Thomas had done to him and he was overcome with a sense of drunken indignation at no one in particular.

Finally he stood up, swaying a bit on his feet, and walked back into the kitchen. It was empty but as he closed the door behind him Ivy walked in, hanging her apron up.

“Oh- Jimmy.” she said, blushing and blinking demurely at the floor.

“Ello Ivy!” he exclaimed cheerily.

She cut the distance between them in moments, coming so close next to him that he felt uncomfortable.

“Jimmy, I’m so sorry for what Alfred’s done to ya. He’s a brute and I’ve already had words with ‘im.” she gently took his hands, stroking the bandage.

Jimmy suppressed a giggle. She was just so ridiculous. And Alfred was ridiculous. And everyone was, as a matter of fact. But dancing was fun and dancing was good.

He took the hands Ivy was holding and turned them so they were on hers and wrapped his one arm around her waist, swinging her around playfully.

“He’s a brute. But he likes **_you_** an awful lot.”

Ivy frowned, looking uneasy.

“Well, I don’t like him.”

Jimmy rocked her back and forth lightly to a rhythm playing in his head, still smiling.

“You should, though, Ivy. You two deserve eachother.”

She seemed to bristle at this and dropped her hands from his.

“You’re daft. Why are you always spinning me along, Jimmy Kent?” she huffed, walking out of the room.

Jimmy sighed and turned to the sink, splashing cold water on his face until he felt well enough to climb up the stairs.

When he got to the attics he spent several minutes outside of Thomas’s door. His fingertips brushed against the doorknob, staring at it as if he was entranced by the way the dim light of the hallway reflected on it’s gold surface.

 _Thomas_ ….

His breath caught in his throat and he turned on his heel, walking back to his own room. 


	2. Chapter 2

_He doesn’t even **like** Ivy_. The words had recently become a mantra. For two people.

The first was Alfred who was, for his part, really trying his best. He’d told Ivy multiple times that he only wanted her to be happy. He’d told Jimmy he better treat her right or he’d throttle him. Each time these attempts to be generous were met with both Ivy and Jimmy rolling their eyes at him and telling him to mind his own business. He wasn’t sure what more he could do. If he thought Jimmy really liked Ivy it might be different. He _told himself_ it would be different. If Jimmy loved Ivy, then Alfred would know he’d take care of her and he could rest easy. But Jimmy had never been anything but dismissive and even rude to Ivy in the past. Why the sudden change of heart? Alfred could only imagine it was some sort of scheme. And to him, that was unforgivable.

The second person who had to keep repeating the aforementioned mantra was Thomas Barrow. Jimmy had said himself- though it was years ago now- that Ivy wasn’t his ‘type’. Of course, that hadn’t turned out to mean what Thomas had thought it meant at the time. Thomas considered himself Jimmy’s friend. It may have started out as a tentative relationship but it had slowly become more natural with time and more importantly with time spent _together_. Playing cards at night, reading the newspaper and showing eachother things they each thought funny or horried or horrid **_and_** funny, gossiping like old hens about the latest scandals both upstairs and downstairs… Thomas regularly felt grateful that he’d found a person who was a kindred spirit to him- even if it wasn’t exactly what he’d first hoped and sometimes still longed for.

During the day he would be everything Jimmy allowed him to be for him- best friend, confidant, occasional partner in crime… At night Thomas still dreamed of having Jimmy as a lover. He’d tried to stop these thoughts- had tried years ago. It hadn’t worked. He found he could barely get to sleep without fantasizing Jimmy’s body as a warmth next to him in bed. Thomas knew it was probably shameful. First of all, he was having romantic (and admittedly sometimes erotic) daydreams about a co-worker who he’d already almost lost his job for harassing. Second, he’d known Jimmy for years now and these thoughts and furthermore the feelings- the both emotional and physical reaction he felt whenever he was near him- had not lessened even remotely. Third, he was a grown man and to think about Jimmy in such a mildly obsessive and soppy fashion made him feel like a silly schoolgirl.

All the same, it wasn’t illegal to hope. Kissing men in their sleep was slightly illegal. But thinking about them, and looking at them, and whispering their name when you touched yourself alone in your room at night- none of those things were illegal… atleast if no one found out you did them.

He wondered at times if it was really unreasonable to have these thoughts. Sometimes Jimmy would stand so close to him it would make his breath catch in his throat, and he’d look up at him through his eyelashes and twist his perfect mouth into a perfect smirk that made Thomas’s stomach tie in knots. Sometimes he could swear he saw Jimmy staring at him but when he caught his eye, the other man would go red and look away self consciously.

As much as he told himself not to read into it, to not let himself believe for even a moment that Jimmy could ever like him that way, the seed of hope had been planted deep in his chest and in their time together had only grown deeper roots that seemed to throb with hurt or blossom like flowers of joy when Jimmy alternately ignored him or gave him attention.    

Thomas told himself almost daily that it wouldn’t happen. That it never could happen. He suppressed the “what if”s and tried to bury his dissapointment. The jealousy.

He knew it was stupid to feel jealous. You can’t be jealous of someone taking something that didn’t belong to you. But he could say that to himself as much as he liked, it didn’t change the fact that when Alfred had said Jimmy had kissed Ivy only a few hours ago, his own heart felt like it dropped down to his toes. And it didn’t change the fact that when Jimmy had said he didn’t like Ivy, he’d felt elated.

He **_knew_** Jimmy didn’t like Ivy. Logically, he knew this. But his feelings for Jimmy were too strong to be able to look at things completely logically. Even if the least he could do was trust Jimmy, he was still doubtful.

_He doesn’t even like Ivy. And what business of yours would it be if he did? He’s going to find someone eventually. You have to accept that._

Thomas thought to himself as he almost filled Lady Grantham’s wine glass to spilling over in his distraction. He apologized and stood back, tactfully ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from Carson. Atleast he wasn’t as bad as Alfred who’d already dropped a dish of sauce in the kitchen and tripped over the carpet while serving just at dinner, nevermind when he came into breakfast without his vest on.

Thomas didn’t feel sympathy for Alfred because if Alfred didn’t have the brain capacity to have romantic angst and do his work simultaneously, then it was just one more way in which Thomas was a superior human being. Thomas, even in his direst times of worry, still didn’t let it seriously affect his ability to do his job.

He hoped Alfred would get fired. Maybe then Jimmy wouldn’t feel the need to go kissing Ivy. Maybe Ivy would leave too. Alfred and Ivy could go off together and get married. Daisy might be sad- Thomas knew Daisy fancied Alfred. But Daisy would get over it. She could do much better than him anyway (Thomas had once thought that despite any other flaws Daisy might have, the fact that she’d once liked him showed that she had good taste but since realizing that she liked Alfred he didn’t know what to think but he took it as a personal insult).

He levelled a glare at Alfred from across the dining room, completely oblivious for once of the family’s conversation. _This is all your fault. Bloody Alfred_ ….

Alfred looked too lost in his own thoughts to take notice.

Thomas was purposefully avoiding looking at Jimmy. He found that whenever he looked at him he had a tendency of becoming engrossed in scrutinizing him. It was hard to look away. It was a bad enough habit on any other day but he didn’t want to give off the impression that he was jealous of Ivy by staring at Jimmy…

He was grateful when the family went upstairs and he rushed outside to have a smoke.

The air was brisk but he liked it that way- and besides, the smoke warmed his lungs.

_She’s not his type._

But someday he might find someone who **would** be his type. It seemed nearly wasteful for someone as beautiful to Jimmy to live without having any lovers.

_Even I had plenty of lovers when I was his age and I’m not half as handsome as he is._

A part of him wondered if on some of Jimmy’s days off he was actually romancing women in bars- maybe with his piano playing or just light banter. Some of his days off he’d spent with Thomas… But Jimmy was mysterious. It was possible, he supposed, that Jimmy had secret lovers he never talked about.

He felt like he was constantly in a process of trying to understand Jimmy. He was like an infuriating puzzle that only seemed to become more and more difficult regardless of how long you worked on it.

Thomas in a way wished he could be half as mysterious as Jimmy. He tried his best to keep his walls up, to maintain a solid defense around himself… but it seemed he always ended up as readable as an open book. Jimmy, on the other hand, was a heavily guarded fortress on an island in a sea of shark infested waters. Impenetrable.

He stubbed out his cigarette and went to his room.

_He was so rude to her before. It’s clear he doesn’t even like her as a friend, much less a lover… Though somehow I can’t imagine being Ivy’s “lover” would consist of much more than hand holding and chaste kisses…_

Thomas’s line of thought had continued even as he lay in bed reading the same sentences in his book over and over again distractedly.

If **_he_** was in a relationship with Jimmy they would only be able to hold hands in private. He had no doubts he’d had more romantic experience than Ivy- certainly more sexual experience. Yet he’d never once had the sort of lover that he’d ever held hands with or given chaste kisses on the lips to the way Jimmy and Ivy had the freedom to do.

If Jimmy loved him back, they could hold hands underneath the dining table at meals when no one could see. And perhaps sometimes when they took the shortcut to Thirsk through the woods where no one else passed. He’d held Jimmy’s hand after he’d bandaged it. But he hadn’t meant to. It had just felt so natural- to have that warmth in his palm. Like his hand was meant to hold Jimmy’s. It seemed like such a more noble purpose than using his hands to polish silver or hold up serving trays.

He tossed his book to the floor beside him and switched off his lamp, rolling onto his side and staring into the darkness until his eyes adjusted and he could make out the shapes of his dresser, the armchair with the upholstery he hated… He turned to look at the blank wall on his other side but still couldn’t keep his eyes closed for more than a few seconds at a time.

 _You can’t sleep unless you think about him_ …

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to conjure any images to mind that **_weren’t_** Jimmy Kent.

His mother, The Hunt of the Unicorn tapestries, and the thought that he needed to buy more cigarettes were among the things that flitted aimlessly through his mind before he lost his will power and opened his eyes again, sighing.

Like every other night, he gave in and when he closed his eyes again he pictured honey colored hair and golden skin. He imagined Jimmy’s fingertips stroking the nape of his neck gently and his lips trailing kisses along his jawline until he started to feel his body go heavy from sleep and his heartbeat slow to a calm, even, rhythm.

Which picked back up when he heard foosteps outside his door. It didn’t sound like someone just walking past. The steps were hesitant and slightly dragging and dischordant- as if the person walking was tripping over their own feet a bit. It also sounded like a failed attempt at tip-toeing. They paused outside Thomas’s door and he sat up in bed.

There was silence. He held his breath. The person outside the door continued walking quickly away.

Thomas threw the covers off him and ran to the door, opening it and catching Jimmy walking back towards his room.

The footman stopped in his tracks, whirling around in a rather exaggerated motion and looking up as if he was a bit surprised to find himself in this hallway at all.

“Oh.” he said. “H-hello, y-you…”

“Are you… drunk?” Thomas asked incredulously.

Jimmy pursed his lips, giving the question serious consideration.

“I might be…. yeah… maybe… I mean… for the sake of argument let’s say that.”

Thomas mustered his most disapproving look.

“Jimmy. It’s the middle of the bloody week.” he said in a deadpan voice. “If you expect to get out of serving at breakfast tomorrow because you’ve got a headache then you’ve got another thing coming to you.”

Jimmy chuckled, stumbling and leaning against the wall for support. He looked up at Thomas coquettishly through his bangs- which he’d been neglecting to curl lately.

“But Mr.Barrow my hand hurts ever so.” he whined. “And I think it might be getting infected- I can’t possibly serve food to the noble Granthams in that condition.”

Thomas frowned.

“Well don’t use **_that_** excuse at the very least- it’s a poor testament to my medical skills.”

Jimmy laughed so uproariously at this that Thomas had to take two steps closer to him, shushing him insistently.

“You’ll wake the whole house if you keep carrying on.” he whispered, though he couldn’t fight a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jimmy went silent, staring up at him and Thomas realized with a sense of panic how close together they were standing- his nose nearly brushing against Jimmy’s eyebrow when he tilted his chin up towards his face.

Their eyes locked for several moments before Jimmy averted his quickly, blinking rapidly as his brows knit together and he muttered, “I think I might be sick…”

He did look pale suddenly. Thomas sighed loudly and put a steadying hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as he steered him toward his bedroom. Jimmy stumbled and wrapped his arm around Thomas’s waist, squeezing him hard to keep his own body upright.

“You’re a right mess.” Thomas mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t vomit on him.

Jimmy sniggered and leaned closer, swaying on his feet as if gravity was affecting him in a unique way.

“You always look after me when I’m drunk, Thomas.” he slurred, falling against him and leaning his head against his shoulder.

“I know. Not sure how you ever survived without me.” he said dryly.

Jimmy looked up at him, suddenly very serious and said with great earnest: “Me neither.”

Either his heart had stopped or it was beating so fast he couldn’t feel it at all.

 _He means you’re his friend._ Or maybe not even friend- more like care taker. Thomas had never felt that he was necessary to anyone else’s life. He’d never depended on anyone and no one had ever depended on him. No one who would mourn his absence if he left them. The population of Downton was fairly neatly divided into two groups: those who actively wanted Thomas gone and those who felt apathetic about his existence.

Regardless of what Jimmy meant by his comment or if it was drunken stupidity, Thomas was overcome with the “warm, fuzzy feeling” described in Christmas stories and love songs.

Jimmy closed his eyes, seemingly falling asleep with his head pressed against Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas cleared his throat, trying not to be rattled by the close proximity and Jimmy’s breath hot on his skin through the fabric of his undershirt.

“Don’t fall asleep, you loony.” he shrugged, knocking Jimmy’s head up until he blinked his eyes open again and allowed himself to be led back to his room where he flopped down on the bed.

Thomas bit his lip, unsure what to do. Jimmy was in full livery but there was no chance he could undress him. He shut the door behind him and decided the least he could do was take off his shoes. He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting Jimmy’s foot in his lap and untying his laces, placing the leather shoe on the floor then doing the same on the other foot.

Jimmy with his eyes closed turned his head on the pillow, making a small contented noise and muttering Thomas’s name.

“Goodnight, Jimmy.” Thomas said stiffly, moving Jimmy’s leg off his lap and trying to stand up. Jimmy sat up with a frightening suddenness and gripped Thomas’s wrist.

“Don’t leave me here! I can’t go to sleep like this!” he winced- sitting up too quickly had clearly made his head spin. “Help me undress, you inconsiderate lout.”

“Do it yourself.” Thomas said quickly, attempting to stand again before he did anything he regretted. Jimmy pulled on his wrist again.

“Please…?” he asked, frowning and looking up at him innocently.

Thomas took a deep breath through his nose, looking at the floor pointedly to avoid getting sucked into Jimmy’s sad puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s not anything you’ve not seen before. Just pretend you’re my valet.” Jimmy said, using his other hand to tug annoyingly at the bottom of Thomas’s shirt.

Thomas turned to him and placed a hand on his chest, shoving him gently back onto the bed.

Jimmy grinned with smug satisfaction as Thomas undid his bowtie and took off his collar.

Thomas’s throat started to feel tight as he took off Jimmy’s vest and by the time he was undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, his hands were shaking. He stared without breathing at his own usually dexterous fingers fumbling with the buttons hopelessly. He tried to swallow and found he couldn’t.

 _In the morning he’s going to know you took advantage of him when he wasn’t himself… he’s going to call the police_ …

He closed his eyes and felt a hand wrap around his. He opened his eyes and saw Jimmy staring at him calmly, his hand holding Thomas’s still.

“Sorry.” Thomas mumbled weakly.

“For what?”

“Don’t know.”

Jimmy held his gaze as he slowly used his other hand to unbutton the rest of his shirt. He sat up, letting go of Thomas’s hand to take it off and drape it on his night stand.

Jimmy took Thomas’s gloved hand with both of his, rubbing his thumbs against the leather. He nodded slightly- his head still bobbing rather loosely on his neck from the drunkenness.

“Thank you, Thomas.” he said. A sort of goofy smile passed over his face and he leaned forward, planting a brief kiss on the under butler’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Thomas felt his body go into full paralysis and could only watch with wide eyes as Jimmy with a self satisfied smile on his face flopped back down into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes, falling easily into sleep.

The older man stood up, feeling like he was the one too shaky to walk without help back to his room now. But he managed to stumble to the door, closing it behind him. He walked back to his own room without really feeling his feet touching the floor and when he got back in bed he had no need to conjure fantasies in his mind because he had only to replay the feeling of Jimmy’s lips pressed firmly against his cheek again and again in his mind until morning light started filerting in through his window. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author’s notes: I make fun of Alfred in literally every fic I write with him in it. Ohmygod. Ironically I’m rather fond of Alfred but I think Thomas and Jimmy would be sort of casually insulting to him and I usually write sort of from their perspectives so it just comes out that way.


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